Al Segno
by quintilis
Summary: Kira is dead. Jachin Due was a failure. And their lives begin to move on repeat. AxC


**category:** Gundam SEED

**disclaimer:** I don't own it.

**notes:** What this is, I don't even know.

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><p>Jachin Due was a failure.<p>

That's all Athrun allows himself to think, because _we lost the war_ is too agonizingly true. They couldn't destroy genesis, they couldn't control the ZAFT and EA fleets, they couldn't do anything but watch as the world around them caught fire.

Kira is dead. The war continues, even if no one has a chance of winning anymore.

Athrun leans over the edge of the balcony and unfocusedly watches the water crash against the jagged rocks, cold and powerful. Unforgiving. He thinks it would be easy to just jump.

"Don't," Cagalli speaks from the side. She's been there before. "Have a drink," she advises instead, so he does, straight from the bottle that sits between them. The vodka is cheap, mixed with some sort of saccharine cherry liqueur, but it burns and that's good enough.

"Lacus was on television yesterday," Athrun mentions flatly after another swig. "Reciting something about a ceasefire. We've heard it before."

Cagalli scoffs and takes a swallow herself. "Still with the Three Ships Alliance, is she? She'll realize it's useless soon enough."

Athrun sits down with his back leaning against the balcony's wall. "What do they think of us? Everyone in Terminal."

"That we're deserters." Cagalli doesn't bother sugarcoating it, but then they've both known it from the moment they left. "Irresolute, hiding here in the middle of Scandinavia instead of staying with the Archangel. Weak." The last word falls like poison from her tongue. She's ducked out of her duties to Orb; he's abandoned everything. There isn't any point to anything anymore.

_There's nothing weak_, Athrun thinks angrily, _about watching Kira die alone in his cockpit._ The set of his jaw catches the attention of Cagalli and she walks over to kneel beside him.

"Drink," she repeats, swinging the bottle in his direction. Her touch is warm on his trembling arm.

He shrugs it away. "He didn't deserve it."

Cagalli studies Athrun's face. Troubled. Broken. On impulse she kisses him.

Athrun stands up and takes an uncertain step away. His voice cracks. "It should have been me."

There is a pause when the only sound is the rushing water below them pounding in their ears and through their bodies, thump thump thump. Then Cagalli's teary voice echoes through the gray emptiness. "Kira's dead, and that's it! It's not about you, and it's not about me! Why can't you understand that?"

Athrun stares at the floor. Kira is dead, but not gone, Cagalli despairs. He's still with them, every second of every minute of every dragging day. Kira, who didn't always know what he was doing, who cried easily. Who fought and fought and smiled less and less with each passing battle.

"But he was kind," Cagalli manages breathlessly. In a sudden wash of despondency she knocks the mocking bottle of vodka off the ledge. It falls down the thirty-foot gap and shatters on the rocks. The two crane their necks downward and spot the bottle's fragments glittering on the ground, its contents spilling and diffusing into the angry waters. (The sea dyed red, like fire and war and beautiful white roses painted over with blood.)

Cagalli suddenly reaches up and pulls Athrun's head toward her for another kiss. This time he responds – she winds her arms around his neck and he holds her closer, tighter. They both pretend they aren't crying. This is normalcy, now. Living life as it's been for the past monochrome two months until they hit the repeat sign and then starting over at the beginning – the day after everything went wrong.

It's better like this, to drink and argue and fake ignorance than constantly remember.

_Stop_, Athrun amends, blocking himself from meandering down a familiarly impermissible path of thought. He tries to concentrate on the feeling of Cagalli's legs looping around his waist. _Jachin Due was a failure._

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><p><strong>notes:<strong> Took me ages to write this. Like, a week, which is really long for something that's less than seven hundred words. I took a different approach when I first started writing – the war still went badly, but it focused on everyone (from the AA) coping together. It was fun to ramble about but it just didn't feel right. There was a really nice passage in there that I liked, though. I might have to figure how to work it into some other piece.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this. I thought it was neat imagining Kira's death, adore him as I do. Please do let me know what you thought. You'll have good karma for the rest of the week! Thanks so much, as always, for reading.


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